


Diamonds Droog ==> Get Roxy

by RampantLampent



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Big Brother AU, Friendship, Gen, not romantic - Freeform, weird sot of au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RampantLampent/pseuds/RampantLampent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diamonds Droog gets a drunk call in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diamonds Droog ==> Get Roxy

Your name is Diamonds Droog, and you are a grown-ass man. You are second-in-command in the most ferocious mob this side of the Felt Mansion. You have a body count a mile long. Yet you find yourself laying in the grass with a sleeping teen nestled into your side.  
It all started with Clubs Deuce. The idiot, in a burst of extreme stupidity, signed you and your compatriots up for some kind of 'big brother' program four months ago. You were assigned an underprivileged brat and had to spend time with them for so many hours a week. Deuce thought it would be a productive use of everyone's free time to 'pour into the youth of the city', as he put it. Because of the shortage of suitable adults, the organization was forced to use your mob.  
You were paired with a sixteen year old named Roxy. She impressed her intelligence upon you on your first meeting. She knew more about science and programming than all of your fellow mob members put together, and wasn't bad at writing to boot. You thought you could get used to her presence in your life, if you absolutely had to. You got along with her fairly well, and found it easier and easier to dedicate more time to the child. She reminded you of yourself. You felt like your influence might actually be making a difference. Until the night of the party, that is.  
A few months after establishing the relationship, you received a call. It was four in the morning. You had fallen asleep at the conference table in the hideout. Papers were strewn about, covering the table and part of the floor. Hearts Boxcars was slumped in the corner, snoring loudly and clutching to Deuce as if his life depended on it. Slick was pacing at the front of the room, murmuring to himself about Snowman's next move.  
You groggily grabbed your phone, swiping the screen and growling, "Hello."  
"Heya hot pants. How'sya doin'?" The young voice was slurred considerably.  
"Miss LaLonde, it is four in tha morning. Why are you callin' me?" Your voice was gruff from the sensation of being forced awake.  
"I'm not sure. Ahwas jus' lookin' through ma phone an' saw yer cute face-"  
"Roxy, are you drunk?" The realization hit you hard. She was too young to be this wasted on a Tuesday night.  
"Hhno. I jus' had a cocktail or sex -hehe six."  
You could not believe what you were hearing. "Stop. Where are you right now?"  
"Ahm at Kurloz's. It's wicked awesome here!"  
"Just- stay there. Don't... don't leave, okay?" You hung up and rubbed your eyes. You didn't have the time or energy for this.  
You swung your coat jacket over your shoulder and grabbed the keys to Deuce's Jetta. Hussie forbid the delinquent throw up in your nice convertible. You nodded at Slick, who ignored you as you exited the base.  
You gripped the wheel of the Jetta tightly as you sped through stoplights on the way to the Makara's. You weren't quite sure why you were going, to be perfectly honest. The kid had a mother, albeit an incompetent one. You begrudgingly acknowledged to yourself that Mom LaLonde was probably the reason Roxy was susceptible to the lure of alcohol and wild parties. You grimaced as you sped up, determined to remove the kid from the toxic situation.  
You park in front of the large Makara household haphazardly, getting entirely too close to a green Jeep. You checked yourself in the rearview mirror. The embodiment of poise and intimidation glared back at you.  
You briskly walked up the walkway, ringing the doorbell when you approached the tall oak door. The sound of horns honking faintly reached your ears. What a stupid doorbell.  
The smallest Makara, Gamzee, answered the summons. He had a joint in one hand and a red solo cup in the other. You glowered at him, revealing your unnaturally sharp teeth. You silently thanked your teenage punk phase, in which you to got your teeth sharpened, as his bloodshot eyes widened. He stepped aside, motioning to the basement steps.  
The sound of dubstep was overwhelming as you entered the basement. Your gaze swept across the goings-on, looking for the familiar shock of bubblegum-pink hair. You caught sight of your brothers' kids, and made a mental note to call the Egbert-Crocker household a soon as you got Roxy out of there. You found her blatantly flirting with a greaser type in the corner. You stalked over, snarled at the 50s wannabe until he backed off, and grabbed Roxy's arm. She protested loudly as you pulled her up the stairs.  
"Lemme go! The party ain't over yet!" You remained silent, afraid of saying something you may have later regretted. You excited the house to find the Jetta's front half completely crumpled inward. The back half of the green Jeep was resting right where the engine should be. You made an audible noise of anger, startling the kid at the wheel. He adjusted his glasses, blushing bright red at your expression.  
You broke into a hard jog, leading Roxy by the arm. You managed to make it to the neighborhood playground before yelling obscenities into the night sky.  
"Whoa, clam down, Dia. 'S not even yer car."  
"I am not angry about the wreck, Roxy!" You turn back to the teen, who had stopped at the edge of the park. You glared as you spoke. "You shouldn't be at such gross fuckin' parties, consuming alcohol an' shit! You are a good, smart kid! You have a life ahead 'a you, and you don't need to go throwin' it all away at sixteen fuckin' years old!"  
Roxy's eyes had grown wide during your tangent. Damn it if she didn't remind you of yourself, drunk and flirty on a school night at one of the infamous Makara shindigs. Only when you got yelled at back in the day, it wasn't with good intentions.  
Roxy whispered, "Do ya really think I have a good future ahead 'a me; that ahm a good kid?"  
"'A course. You're smart, kid. You'll go far if you want ta. You just gotta stay outta trouble."  
Roxy smiled and began to tremble. She sat down in the grass heavily, lethargy overtaking her. You walked over and sat next to her, tentatively placing your hand on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around your torso, leaning her head against your chest.  
You both ended up laying down in the grass, peering up at the sky as night slowly turned to day. You turn your head to look at the sleeping figure nestled into your side. You're going to have to find some coffee and ibuprofen for her inevitable hangover, and then take her somewhere safe. School can wait until tomorrow.  
You ruminate on your relationship with the small teen. You want her to have the good role model you never had. You know that you're definitely not the best choice, but you're better than a deadbeat, alcoholic mother, that's for sure.  
Roxy begins to stir, groaning and murmuring about her headache. You sit up and pull out your phone. You're going to have to have a very difficult conversation with Clubs Deuce.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this during a road trip. Found it on my Kindle just now. Unedited. I haven't even looked over it since I wrote it, but I thought I'd use this account finally and post it here. Not my first fan fiction, but my first posted on AO3. Feedback is appreciated. Should I edit this, should I write more stories, etc. Thank you for reading!


End file.
